


prides and packs

by summoner_yuna_of_besaid



Series: thick skin, elastic heart [2]
Category: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VIII, Kingdom Hearts
Genre: M/M, Strifehart Sunday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-24 20:02:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4933444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summoner_yuna_of_besaid/pseuds/summoner_yuna_of_besaid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He doesn’t quite mesh with Cloud the way he does with the others.  He supposes that… he feels more out of place with Cloud here, because the niche he takes up in their group was Cloud’s to begin with. </p>
<p>He doesn’t belong here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	prides and packs

#  p r i d e s    a n d    p a c k s

 

The day Cloud returns, Leon heads for the cave. 

It’s where he feels most comfortable, the closest to home.  Reminds him of the places they used to train, the caverns where he found Ifrit, where he became a SeeD.  Almost half his life ago.

It was just a year after the war that the Heartless came.  Balamb withheld; with the power of a Sorceress behind them, the SeeDs were able to protect the place, and save countless lives.  And so the planet never fell; the keyhole was never found, and knowing what he knows now, Squall suspects it was in the underground tunnels of the very school itself. 

SeeD made fighting the Heartless their priority, under Squall’s command, and it was on just such a mission that he slipped away.

They’d swarmed him on all sides, his blade cutting uselessly through nothing.  He couldn’t kill them.  Maybe they couldn’t be killed.   His last thoughts as he began to sink under was, _not like this_.  Then a glowing light overtook him, just as he shut his eyes. 

Next he knew, he awoke face down on another world, one appropriately – and with ironic cruelty – called Radiant Garden.  It was clear he’d survived because of her.  It only became clearer later on that night, when he removed his jacket and found a new design on the back: a pair of wings. 

It took three years for it to fall.  This time, there was no Sorceress to save them, and he could do nothing.  That was the final time.  The final time he would allow these creatures from the dark to send him crawling away, far from home, flung across the universe.

He would get home one day.  He would.  Just… not now.  Not when these things were still shuffling out of the pit, threatening everything and everyone.  He would go back when it was over, just… not now. 

Not now.  He swings his blade, huffing for breath.  Grits his teeth.  Not now.

It’s hard to keep repeating, but he has to.  This is how it has to be.  _Swish_.  Stuck on a distant rock, a tiny town cobbled together from the broken pieces of other worlds. _Swish_.  Stuck with a bunch of strangers who are all friends, who all know one another, and are above him celebrating the return of an old friend and he should be too but he can’t –

Among them, he’s never felt so alone.

Upon his next swing his leg gives and he follows it down, kneeling upon the cold stone with his head pressed against the hilt of the blade.  Grits his teeth hard enough to hurt.  This is what has to be done, just like all those years ago but this time – this time it’s just harder.  Because this time he is suffering his worst fear, and he feels like that little boy in the rain all over again.  He lost them all.  All of them. 

_Rinoa_ , he bits his lip, a tear falling down his cheek. _What do I do?_

He hears the heavy thud of boots upon the stones, and rushes to his feet fast enough his head spins.  In one hand he grips his blade, with the other he wipes his eyes.  Just as he turns towards the entrance, the newcomer arrives.

“Strife,” Leon nods, the walls coming back down, the memories shuffling away.  He swings the blade back onto his shoulder.

Cloud nods in return.  His eyes dart about the space.  “Pretty late to train.”

“Not really.”  He used to spend his nights in the Training Center, staying up way past curfew fighting monsters until daybreak.  But he doesn’t say that.  Cloud gives him a look, a subtle quirk of the eyes, and Leon looks away.

He doesn’t quite mesh with Cloud the way he does with the others.  He supposes that, if opposites attract, then the reverse might be true – that likes repel.  They are both loners, both unsociable and difficult to understand.  Rinoa and the others had managed to see past it with him, just as Aerith and the others had with Cloud.  He supposes that… he feels more out of place with Cloud here, because the niche he takes up in their group was Cloud’s to begin with. 

He doesn’t belong here.

“Want to spar?”

Stunned eyes glance up.  Leon tries to cover his surprise as he glances around.  “Little small.”  It should be awkward, how they talk in these stiff, jilted sentences.  As he speaks, Cloud approaches the wall, and leans his enormous sword against it.  Then, he steps into a fighting stance, fists raised.  One hand, Leon sees, has glittering gold armaments.  That’s new.

“…”  Leon doesn’t reply, but he sets his sword aside.  It isn’t often he fights in this style, but he knows how.  Every SeeD is well-versed in a variety of fighting techniques.  He knows Cloud isn’t as skilled in this fighting style, but it won’t give him much of an edge. 

No, Leon thinks as they begin and Cloud lands one really hard punch to his shoulder, it won’t.  Because Cloud is a frickin’ _beast_ that stands a foot shorter and a good deal scrawnier than the brunet, and yet.  He’s magnificently strong.  Much stronger than Leon – he could never lift Fenrir the way Cloud does, with such finesse and grace.

Still, Leon’s more than a match for the man.  Both are holding their punches enough to keep from really causing injury, but enough to create a good ache.  In the moment the man realizes that’s exactly what he wants – what he needs.  That burn, that head to foot soreness that erases thought and invites exhausted sleep.  So he falls into it, throws himself into the bout.   Tosses punch after punch until his knuckles are bleeding.  He can tell Cloud is favoring one hand, the one without the armament, so he changes his tactics.  Forces Cloud into a corner, into having to use the metal hand.  Invites the pain.  Invites the distraction.  He’s bruised and bleeding but it isn’t enough.

But the fist doesn’t come; he’s surprised by a foot cutting him off under his legs, and he stumbles to the ground.  The blond follows, an arm bar falling onto his throat, but it only keeps him from moving.  He grips it with both hands but he can’t fucking budge it and _holy hell_ the guy is strong.

“What are you getting at, Squall?”

All the feelings he’s been pushing away swell inside him, flooding back like a tidal wave and he spits, “It’s _Leon_ ,” just as Cloud rolls his eyes and says, “Whatever, you know what I mean!”

“We were sparring.  Your idea.”  He gives up trying to move, falls against the ground with his chest heaving, sore and tired and caught between his opponent and the unmoving earth.  It’s not the worst place to be.  Cloud is attractive, and Squall has always had a strange thing for blonds strong enough to hold their own against him.

“You’re being reckless.”

“And you’re not?”  Maybe not now, but Cloud’s the one who’s always charging off half-cocked.  Running across the galaxy chasing his “old friend”, without help, without a word.  Poison bubbles up out of his throat before he can stop it.  “How’s Sephiroth?”  The grimace on Cloud’s face hurts more than the fist that finally flies against his face. 

He kicks Cloud off, and chases after, and from then on it’s just a brawl.  They tear into each other, old wounds and scars put to the wayside as they earn new ones.  It ends when they fall upon the ground, side by side, the wear on their bodies drowning out the wear on their souls.

“Sorry,” Leon manages to mutter.  Cloud shrugs.

“I know.”  Cloud gets this; gets repressing shit, dealing with it silently, often badly, lashing out without meaning to.  Maybe likes don’t repel after all.  They fall silent but for their heavy breathing, and soon enough it’s only Leon breathing heavy. 

“I miss them,” He breaks the silence what seems like ages later.  He hadn’t meant to.  But it rises out of him, unannounced, and his voice breaks.   “I miss them so fucking much.”

Cloud looks at him, but Leon can’t face him.  His eyes squeeze shut, blocking back tears.  “Me, too,” The man’s voice sounds forlorn.  They aren’t talking about the same people, Leon knows, but they both have lost others.  They’ve both left homes behind.  “You aren’t alone, you know.” 

Leon chuckles humorously.  “Sure,”

“Idiot.  You belong here.”

A scoff.  He turns to Cloud and almost can’t handle the sympathetic blue-green eyes.  “I’m a tagalong.”  He glances away.  “ _You’re_ their friend.”

The reply he gets is a smack on his arm.  “You are too.”  Cloud sits up, pulls his knees up and rests his arms on him.  The red cape is all Leon can see from that angle, so he sits up too.  Leans back on his hands, enjoys the ache. 

“I’m a stand-in.”  Why is he saying this?  Why are all these thoughts he’s kept to himself, all these things that’ve troubled him as he tries to sleep at night, why are they all flying out now?  “A placeholder for when you aren’t here.”

“Bullshit.”   Cloud insists, a dark edge in his tone.  “You’re nothing like me.  And that’s a good thing.”  Then he scoffs.  “You’ve been taking care of them, of all of us, since the beginning.  And we weren’t even yours.  You didn’t have to.  But it’s who you are.  When darkness comes you rise to meet it.  I just run away and disappear. 

“… you don’t run away.”  Leon begins when he manages to find his voice.  “And if you are running, then it’s to chase after something much darker.  Something none of us could face.”

Cloud looks touched.  His eyes widen, and after a moment, he shrugs.  “I don’t know.  I think you could give Sephiroth a run for his money.”

That brings a chuckle to his lips.  “That’s alright,” Leon shakes his head.  “I have a rival already, thanks.”

The blond’s gaze rises and narrows.  “What?”

“You just don’t talk about yourself much.”

“Pot, kettle?”

Cloud gestures to the world above them.  “The others talk enough about it for me.” 

“Not really.”  The brunet shrugs.  “I know you’re all originally from the same world.  You fought together in a rebellion and Sephiroth was involved, somehow.  Other than that… it’s all guesswork.”

Their gazes meet.  The space between them is so thin; the cave was small already, and the fight had brought them even closer.  It seemed they were gravitating towards each other, pulling closer and closer and Leon wasn’t sure if he could fight it if he wanted to.

Cloud’s eyes darted over the man’s face.  He feels it, too.  Clearly, he does.  Doesn’t he?  Leon feels like his head is swimming as Cloud smirks and leans back.  “Guesses, huh?”

Leon blinks.  “Well, yeah.”

“Like what?”

Leon narrows his gaze.  “For one thing, you don’t fucking age.”  Cloud outright laughs at that, at the indignant tone of the other man.  “I’ve known you for twelve years and you still look the same.  How old are you?”

The other warrior smirks.  “You said you’d guess.”  Frowning, Leon crosses his arms, sits with his legs crossed beneath him. 

“30?  … 35?”  Leon’s eyes bulge.  “ _Older_?  How?”

His eyes darken then, and he glances away.  “Call it mad science.”  A weak smile comes over his lips.  He lifts a fist, staring at it like he doesn’t really see it.  “45.”

“Holy shit!”  That gets another burst of laughter from the man, and it sends a strange warmth through Leon’s chest.  He rarely hears the man laugh, and never because of something he’d said.

Blinking, Leon shakes his head.  “I always figured I was older than you.”

“You’re younger than everyone, actually.  Even Yuffie.  She’s 36.”  At 29, that did make Leon the younger one.  Cloud grins then.  “Kid.”

“Start calling me kid, I start calling you old man.”  They both share a chuckle, then.  “So, what’s Aerith’s story, then?  She doesn’t change, either.”

The humor drains from the man’s face in an instant.  He turns away, even as Leon says, “Forget I asked.”

An awkward silence falls then, and Leon curses himself.  This is the longest conversation he’s ever had with the blond, and he had to go and fuck it up.  How he ever made friends, Leon has no idea.

“You know what you are?”

_An idiot?_ A voice in his head supplies.  He turns towards Cloud, whose spirits seem to have risen somehow.  “What?”

“You’re a lion.”  Leon begins chuckling already, but Cloud continues.  “I mean it.”  The amount of times he’s been called something to that effect are endless.  “You’re distant and intimidating sometimes, but you’re fiercely protective of your pride.  And they love you for it.”  Something in his tone makes Leon look up.  Cloud’s eyes have darkened to a bluish grey, and it is one of a thousand mysteries about the man that his eyes can change so drastically.

“What’s that make you?”  He wonders aloud.  Cloud glances away and shrugs, just as it hits him.  “You’re a wolf.”  That makes the man’s gaze snap back up.  “You’re a loner, but you still belong to a pack.  And even though you’re often gone… you always come back.”

After a moment, Cloud smirks.  “You’re a poet.”

Confused, Squall’s brow furrows.  “It wasn’t that great.”

“It _rhymed_.”

“…”  Squall frowns at the realization, a constipated grimace on his face that makes Cloud burst into peals of laughter for the third time.  The brunet’s heart is thudding in his chest, his face red with happiness.  He smiles.

Suddenly, the shorter man closes the distance between them, and presses their lips together.  It’s quick, almost instant, before Cloud leans away and stands up.  “Come on, it’s late.”  He says, a hand extended to the other.  “We should get back.”

Leon stares at the hand, slacked jawed, red to his ears.  After a moment, Cloud chuckles.  “Come on, Squall.”

That snaps him out of it.  “That’s –

“Leon, right.  Come on.”

He takes Cloud’s hand, and stands up.  They collect their things, and take the staircase through Merlin’s house back to the Third District – back home, or at least, home for now.  Back to the people that matter.  And they might not all be there, but they’re out there somewhere.   He’ll find them again, one day.  _They’ll_ find them – because he’s not alone.

The whole way back, Cloud never lets go of his hand.

_\- fin_


End file.
